ing scene, if old Aubrey
is to be believed) rakish extravagance too often characteristic of
genius at any time, and perhaps particularly so of Shakspeare's time.
It is apparent that Shakspeare, at least from the time the plays
commenced, never had to shift for his living: he had always money to
lend and money to spend; and we know also, that many of his
contemporaries, men with genius akin to that which produced these
plays, were in continued and utter extremity, willing to barter
exertion, name, and fame, for the daily dole that gets the daily
dinner.

May not William Shakspeare--the cautious, calculating man, careless of
fame, and intent only on money-making--have found, in some furthest
garret overlooking the 'silent highway' of the Thames, some pale,
wasted student, with a brow as ample and lofty as his own, who had
written the _Wars of the Roses_, and who, with eyes of genius gleaming
through despair, was about, like Chatterton, to spend his last copper
coin upon some cheap and speedy means of death? What was to hinder
William Shakspeare from reading, appreciating, and purchasing these
dramas, and thereafter keeping his poet, as Mrs Packwood did? The mere
circumstance of his assuming them as his own, may have seemed to be
justified by his position as manager, and his regard to the interests
of the theatre; as a play by a well-known and respected favourite
would be more likely to escape hissing than one by an unknown
adventurer; and the practice once commenced must go on; for we cannot
suppose that Shakspeare could afford to deny the authorship of
_Macbeth_, if he had previously consented to father _Henry VI._, _The
Two Gentlemen of Verona_, and the _Midsummer Night's Dream_. This
assumption, we are sorry to say, smooths away many of the difficulties
that have hitherto baffled the critics. How could Shakspeare, say
they, have been able to write at all, while obviously and laboriously
employed in the active business of his profession? Where did he
acquire that all-comprehensive knowledge of nature, men, and books?
How could he paint with such exact fidelity the peculiar scenery
pertaining exclusively to the subject in question, when he can be
proved never to have left London? What time had he to tread the
'blasted heath,' or describe the aspect of Glammis Castle? How could
he accomplish all this? Why, simply, and naturally, and easily--by
affording his poet all the requisite leisure, and defraying the
expenses of a